The Haunting of Jack Sparrow
by Kelixir
Summary: Jack suddenly finds himself in uncharted territories as he must fight to protect one that he loves.
1. Chapter 1

* * *

Summary: Jack suddenly finds himself in uncharted territories as he must fight to protect one that he loves.

Disclaimers: Quite silly that it has to be said but, I don't own any of the Pirates characters. The originals are mine, however.

quote for this ficlet: "What fun's life without a little corniness and fluffy happenstance?"

* * *

-----_k-----_

Sophie woke with a start.

It wasn't that she hadn't been enjoying her dream, far from it—it had been a curiously fascinating fantasy about life on a pirate ship complete with quirky crew and a rogue of a captain. But her subconscious mind told her she was no longer alone in her bedroom. Adrenaline shocking her awake, she sat up and squinted in the hazy twilight, groping for her bedside lamp trying to uproot the intruder hiding in the shadows.

The light switched on and devoured the darkness.

And she was alone.

"That's not good," she muttered to herself before an unsettling shiver shook her body. She wrapped her quilt tighter around her shoulders and shuddered. Something wasn't right. Reaching for her phone, she wanted to call someone but the crimson numbers of the bedside clock told her her voice wouldn't be welcomed by any of her friends.

Quivering again, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The light was doing little to help her ever-growing nerves but it was going to stay on the rest of the night. Her eyes darting around the room, she leaned against the headboard and tried to get comfortable. For hours she sat like that, watching, listening, wondering—her mind never stopped working—until, finally, in the darkest part of night, the energy wore off and started making her feel sluggish. She wanted to push sleep from her mind but the loss of adrenaline was quickly making her crash.

She looked fuzzily around her room. It seemed the same but the uneasy feeling was gone from hours before, replaced with a comfortable warm one. Her eyes drifted over to the curtains that separated her bedroom from her studio and smiled as a man sauntered in.

"What are you doing here?" Surprise and wonder both colored her voice making her sound younger than she was.

He smiled and casually sat on the end of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. "Now that is a question not easily answered, kitten."

She wrinkled up her nose.

"What? No to the nickname?"

Resting her chin on her knees she lifted a shoulder as a reply but amended, "It's what my Grampa used to call me is all."

"Ahh, I see." He took in the room and nodded slowly. "It's not the captain's quarters on a ship but it is quite nice."

"What's the name of your ship?"

His eyes lighted and he responded as a proud father would. "The Black Pearl."

"With black sails and black decks? I saw it earlier."

"Is that so?" he asked, pushing a few dreadlocks over his shoulder. "And how is that?"

"I was dreaming. As I am now."

Pulling the cork out of a frosted bottle—something she hadn't noticed earlier—he mumbled into the mouth, "A dream? It must be—there's rum," before taking a long drink.

"What's that?"

Pointing to the bottle he explained, "This is a vile drink that makes even respectable men turn into scoundrels. And no, you cannot have any."

"Then why drink it?"

"Because, luv, it's rum."

She rubbed at her forehead and frowned. "Dreams shouldn't make your brain hurt."

"That's why rum is good. Relaxes the muscles of the mind."

"Among other things," she mumbled, resting her cheek on her hand, studying him. "Are you why I woke earlier? A dream within a dream?"

"Come again?"

"Well, I was on your ship and then I thought there was someone in my room and I woke but there wasn't. So that must have been a dream, too."

"Sorry for the fright, kitten. I was here earlier--"

"Oh, good. I was worried."

"But I don't know if I was the one that frighten you."

_Crash._

She jumped to her feet and grabbed the nearest thing she could find to turn into a weapon—a hairbrush—and stealthily crept to the curtain, flinging it to the side to add an element of surprise. Dread and panic quickly dissolved to relief when she saw it was just her stool on its side; the wind from the open window had knocked it over.

She sighed and wiped the palm of her hand against her forehead. "What a night."

---_k_---

The next day at lunch, she rubbed nervously at the back of her neck as she felt the unsettling feeling lingering over her again from the previous night. She tuned out what her friend was saying for the third time.

"Soph? Are you feeling alright?" Her companion gingerly grabbed the elbow of the arm she was using to massage her neck and stopped her movement.

The touch startled her attention back to the table and she inquired, "Dub, do you ever feel like someone's watching you?"

"What's going on? Is someone bothering you? Stalking you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. At least, I don't think so," she gazed out over her friend's shoulder and began to daydream again.

"Soph, you're scaring me."

She focused on his face and offered a soft smile. "I'm sorry. I think it's just a few paranoid moments."

"How many have you had?"

"Um, last night in bed. This morning at breakfast. And right now, I guess."

Her always-bronzed, brunette friend stood to his full six foot four and scanned their surroundings. The outdoor café offered little protection from anyone that could pose a threat to her and he didn't like it.

"Herby, sit down. You're bothering the other patrons."

"Sophie, if someone's watching you, I want to catch them before they can do anything to you."

Grabbing his wrist, she captured his attention and shot a heartfelt smile up to him. "You're overreacting to some heebie-jeebies. It's fine, I promise." But really it wasn't. The more they'd talked about the "someone" watching her, the worse the feelings grew that someone's eyes were trained on them. The cold, unsettling feeling seated itself in her stomach, turning her fingers to ice and causing her heart to race. "Can we just get out of here?"

He scanned the area again as he dropped a few bills on the table and, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, escorted her from the restaurant. It was his training, she supposed, as a police officer that made him react the way he had but, for some reason, it made her stomach ease and her fingers warm.

----_k_----

"Are you sure you don't want anything, Dub?" Sophie shouted from the kitchen. He could hear her rattling a pan on the stovetop as the popcorn popped nosily in the microwave. He replied negatively as he quietly opened her front closet door and then slipped a finger behind the blinds to stare out the window. Her bedroom was on the makeshift second floor of the large loft apartment which she'd sectioned off with immense sheets of fabric into a bedroom and studio and Dub didn't think he'd be able to make it up there and back before she came back from the kitchen. Then again—"I changed my mind. Could I get a soda?"

"Ice?"

"Of course."

The extra chore might be just enough to give him a chance to check things out upstairs. As quietly as he could, he traversed the raw wood steps three at a time, using the red brick wall was support, and flipped the first drape of blue cloth out of the way. The studio was the smaller of the two sections upstairs and was filled by a large drawing desk, cabinets, an easel and canvases propped together against any vertical surface. A bank of windows let in warm southern light and offered a perfect vantage point for anyone watching Sophie; the thought disturbed him as he looked at the massive oak outside the windows.

Moving on, he pushed away the peacock green curtain that hid her bedroom and smirked; the bed was made but unkempt and the quilt she slept under was in a heap to one side. Why she chose to sleep on top of the covers instead of under them was something that her girlfriends had mercilessly teased her about but he had never put thought behind it until that moment. Now seeing that that's exactly how she slept, he felt like an interloper on her private life. However, there was a more pressing issue at hand and he went to the west facing window next to her dresser and lifted the white curtains away from the window. Fortuitously, no large trees were outside that window and no one could watch her sleeping. At least from the outside.

Slowly, he began backing out of the room, studying every aspect of it that he could. Then, something caught his attention on her bedside table. He walked over to it and smiled. On the cluttered surface was a picture they had taken at his part-time job last summer; she was the only friend he'd trusted with his most embarrassing secret. If fellow cops found out about it, he'd never stop being tormented.

Next to it sat her grandfather's emerald ring on a chain. Her most prized possession in life, he once had to dive into a creek to rescue it from a bad rowboat experience. Tarnished with age and long wear, the ring was covered with designs, once intricate but now worn down by time. Equally as special but far less sentimental, a key sat nestled in the coiled chain of the necklace; a family heirloom, that he was sure had a story that he'd one day ask for.

Returning his attention to the task at hand, he double checked the room and then treated the studio the same. As far as he could tell, there weren't many areas anyone could hide: in the closet or the bureau maybe but it seemed pretty safe. The curtains offered the biggest cover for an intruder as really they weren't much different from walls and, he thought it was best not to say anything about them. Other than hanging something up at the studio windows, the upstairs seemed pretty safe.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: Quite silly that it has to be said but, I don't own any of the Pirates characters. The originals are mine, however.

quote for this ficlet: "What fun's life without a little corniness and fluffy happenstance?"

* * *

----_k----_

Spinning on his heels, the blood drained from his face as he took in the figure on the stairs leaning against the harsh red bricks, offering a curious look.

Sophie was a girl that was hard to put into words. On the surface she was a brown haired, hazel eyed girl who worked for a local monopoly in advertising. She took great pride, though she hid it well from friends, when they'd walk past one of the ads she'd designed but Dub could see the light in her eyes. She was sweet and quiet and most people seemed to like her.

Underneath that, however, he knew a few more things that others didn't. She liked watching kids' movies—a habit that he begrudging obliged now and then—, she had a more than curious fascination with the "hero type" from most lore—though this fact helped her tremendously with her career—, she wasn't easily frightened by things—which was why her making mention that someone was watching her made him edgy—, and she'd never kissed a guy—not that he'd tried, though he had thought about it occasionally. He was male, after all.

Nervously, he shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step forward. "I was just…checking."

She climbed a few steps and smiled, "Well, if you wanted to check someone out, you should have been downstairs with me."

He liked the intrigue warming her voice; it made him wonder what she was implying. "Oh?" Closing the distance between them, he looked down at her with an impish grin. Their height difference had always been noticeable but, with her standing a step lower, she seemed quite a bit smaller and it made him feel all the more protective of her.

"Yeah. He's been downstairs watching me make the popcorn."

Dub's blood turned icy. "He?"

"Yes. I think."

"What?" Moving to step around her, he was surprised when her arm shot out to stop him.

"I don't—this is going to sound strange. I'm not afraid anymore. I mean, I don't think it's some_one _anymore. I think it's some_thing."_

He furrowed his brow. "I don't quite follow."

"Y'know. _Otherworldly_." She whispered the last word making the back of his neck feel prickly again. "I've heard about this kind of thing before. I started smelling something; it's musky and warm, like a sea breeze. Oh, and rum. I turned around and he was there. I think."

Assuming she was teasing him and had been since she caught him upstairs where he didn't belong, he asked playfully, "Rum? How do you know what that smells like?"

"That's what he was drinking last night when he was in my room."

He bristled. "Sophie, cut it out, you're scaring me."

She opened her mouth a few times to respond but finally closed it feeling like a ventriloquist dummy.

Then, he took her off guard when he knelt slightly and wrapped his arms around her middle. She'd never noticed that he smelled just like the man downstairs; musky and warm with a sense of adventure. Her reflexes taking over, she took a deep breath and memorized the scent; plainly, he smelled amazing.

Herby held her at arm's length and sighed, "I just never know when you're kidding or not. Don't talk anymore like that, okay?"

The spell broken, she smiled at him. Picking up on his unease she merely shrugged and motioned with her head for him to follow her downstairs. Dub was her most open-minded friend and if he refused to listen to her, what was she going to do?

Clomping down the steps, she felt his eyes on her back, filled with unanswered questions but something in the kitchen caught her attention. It was a man; she assumed it was the one she'd smelled earlier, too, from the look of him. His well-worn brown coat hung down past his thighs as did a dingy white and red striped sash around his waist. Tattered boots and knickers dressed the bottom half of his lean body and a begrimed shirt that once was white and a vest completed the clothing while a red headscarf and tricorn hat finished the look. The man was a full-fledged pirate. And he was eating her popcorn.

"Herby, is there anything strange in the kitchen?" She pointed straight at the man who was looking right at her, leaning against her counter, a smirk on his face. Behind her, Dub stepped down a few steps and followed her pointed finger with his gaze.

He shouted in surprise before running past her, grabbing her shoulders as he did so as not to knock her off the non-banistered stairs. "Sophie!! Get something to help me!"

She thumped down a few more stairs and scoffed, "What? A cannon? A cutlass?"

"What are you talking about," he cried as he slipped from her view behind the kitchen wall. "Get me a fire extinguisher!"

"What?" And then she noticed the rolling smoke escaping at the top of the doorway. "Oh!" Dashing into the kitchen she saw the pan of butter, or what was left of it, with baking soda dumped in it and on a different burner from the one she'd been using; the lit burner's blue flame was still dancing as Dub turned it off. She didn't know why that was what she focused on but she did and asked, "Did you do that?"

He looked over his shoulder as he opened the nook windows and shook his head. "No, it was like that. The smoke must have been something cooking off in the burner." Opening the window over the sink, he waved some of the smoke out with a towel. "You must have moved it before you came upstairs and forgot about the burner."

"And the baking soda?"

He humphed and shrugged. "It must have fallen from the hood," he said pointing over the stove where she kept baking items.

But Sophie didn't believe that for a second. She was watching the seaman as he continued to stuff his face with her popcorn, a stupid smirk on his face, and couldn't believe that Dub wasn't aware of him. Didn't he see popcorn floating through the air? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with _her_?

The sailor man crossed a booted foot over the other and shot her a gold-toothy grin as if it were the most normal thing to be standing there in the getup he was in. It was definitely the same man from last night, his dreadlocks and beads were unmistakable and even where she was she could smell the odor from earlier. Studying him intently, she barely noticed Dub as he grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her from the room; the spell over her was broken when she couldn't see the sailor anymore.

He turned her around. "Sophie, are you ill?"

"Ill?"

"You know, sick?"

"No, I'm not. I don't think. Actually, maybe I will lie down."

After much convincing that she'd be okay and that she'd call him if need be, she was able to get Herby to leave; she made sure the door was double locked before turning and collapsing against it. She had always had an overactive imagination, that much was certain. And she was under a heap of stress from work, needing to get new boards to her boss by the end of the work. Perhaps she was just overtired and was manifesting it through the sailor.

The topic of her sanity sauntered through the kitchen door and chastised, "You left the butter unattended on the stove, kitten. That wasn't a wise thing."

Trepidation gave way to skepticism. "Who are you and why didn't he see you? And why didn't he see what you were doing?"

"The whelp? Whelps are prone to moments of idiot--," he furrowed his brow as he thought and finished, "—ness. It's not my fault if he didn't open his eyes." Picking at the bowl of popcorn, he was choosing all the perfectly popped pieces.

"He's not a whelp and he's definitely not an idiot. And stop eating my popcorn!" She said, ripping the bowl away from him and hugging it to her stomach.

"Now, don't get upset, kitten. I did save your humble abode after all."

"Figments can't save houses. It was happenstance that the baking soda fell in."

"Now, luv, you and I both know that's not true."

"Who are you? And way are you dressed like that?" she snapped.

"I'm Captain Jack Sp—"

"Captain? Of what?"

"The Black Pearl! You told me you saw her last night. Black sails, black decks."

"That was a dream!! Nothing more!"

"And now?"

She sighed and looked into the bowl. "You ate all the fluffy ones."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers and author's notes: Thank you so very much to my reviewers! I hope I don't disappoint you in the coming chapters. It's a fast pace one so expect a conclusion soon--don't worry, I won't drag this out over years. As always, I don't own Jack. k

* * *

Sophie snorted and collapsed in her giggles onto the couch. The sailor—no, _captain_—had just finished telling her a story about a time he had impersonated a clergy member and the chaos that ensued. A healthy air of doubt still hung in the air, Jack could sense it and had for the two weeks he'd been there but the enchanting female was listening to his stories as if they were spun gold and far be it for him to deny her joy.

He still didn't know how he'd gotten there. One moment he was on his beloved Pearl, the next he found himself in her bedroom, watching her toss and turn and now here he was, telling her stories of his life as he reclined on her plush chair. He still had his wits about him—he couldn't just be a figment of her imagination, could he?

Their conversation about his origin had been long and arduous but they finally came to an agreement that if they thought too hard about it, their brains may pop. He did credit the Kitten with having the most open mind he'd ever encountered but after seeing undead pirates, mythical sea beasts, and a goddess in his own time, a centuries old pirate showing up didn't seem that hard to believe.

Plus, she studied him with wonder at his tales of heraldry, mischief at his tales of piracy and she laughed at perfect times. He liked her laugh. She was satisfactorily good companionship in his mind. Inattentively, he flipped through her collection of c.d.'s and loaded a random one into the player.

Sophie watched dumbfounded as the pirate performed the action as if he had done it all his life. "Captain Jack, I have to ask, if one minute you're on the Pearl and the next you're here, how is it that nothing around you is shocking at all? You don't find technology impressive? Dress styles weird? Food…well food probably hasn't changed but still--!"

He paused in thought then supplied, "Well, perhaps you're a figment of my imagination, luv, and I've developed all these strange inventions with my own clever wits."

Mirth lit her features but she quickly tried to be serious. "Hmm, I don't think I've ever been a figment before. I don't know if I like it."

"I wouldn't be so sure, little lass. The way that whelp--," she shout him a look, "—sorry but he'll be a whelp until he proves hisself otherwise—looks at you, I'm sure he's turned you into an fantasy a time or two."

Wrinkling her nose she groaned, "I don't think I want to think about him like that."

A pit-like feeling in his stomach told Jack he didn't want to think like that either.

----_k----_

"Who are you settin' sail with again, kitten?" Jack scraped the side of the ice cream container with his spoon and rolled his eyes in pleasure as he savored the rum raisin ice cream.

She was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom holding up a black dress with her left hand. "Dub."

It had been several days since her "whelp" conversation with Jack and every time she talked with Herby, she couldn't get out of her mind what the unseen pirate had said about her friend. So what if he thought of her that way once or twice? There was definitely a certain pull from him that she was attracted to.

Jack pointed to the outfit on the right with his spoon and clarified, "Wear that one."

"Are you sure?" Holding the simpler outfit up, she eyed it but didn't seem convinced.

"After seeing how he looks at you, I am, savvy?"

Sighing, she replied, "You should give him a chance. He's not that bad." Shaking her head, she turned to him and scoffed, "What am I saying? No one can see you but me!"

"Aye, but you're handling your good fortune very well. Most girls would have their knickers knotted by now."

"Good fortune, loss of sanity, either or these days. At least Becca didn't hear me talking to you this morning."

"Ah, but she did I'm sorry to reveal. One of the advantages of being invisible, I looked through the wall and saw her listening. Don't worry: she probably doesn't think you're a complete nutter."

"Only a slight one, then?"

Jack licked another dollop of ice cream from his spoon. "So why should I give the whelp a chance?"

Her eyes lighting, she flopped on the bed and sighed. "He's a good man, knows what he want from life, is great at his job, and—."

"And?"

"And he'd kill me if I told you."

"All the more reason to purge the soul, luv."

She chuckled and looked to her bedside table. "See that picture?"

"Where you're dressed as pirates?"

"Yes. He has to pick up shifts at a local attraction as a pirate to make ends meet and he won't tell a soul. Except me."

Jack laughed. "That's daft. Next you'll be telling me people pay money to go see pirates in big action-packed adventures where we're the good guys, treasure is free-following and everyone lives happily ever after."

"I'll leave that unanswered."

"And what be his pirate name? Herby the swab? Or Dub the Sea Dog?"

"Captain Mac," she replied shyly.

"Cap'n!? I survived sea beasts, a crazed tentacl-y madman, the EIC and two mutinies to be a captain and he just picks it out of the air?!"

Sophie laughed. "Well no; it was bestowed on him by his boss. He was the only one at the time who could grow a convincing beard quickly enough for the show."

"So worthiness to captain a ship has been reduced to the rate of facial hair growth?"

"'Fraid so."

"Unbelievable. What has the world come to?" He couldn't help from chuckling though. "I must say, your feelings for the whelp seemed to have changed."

There was that eye twinkle again, Jack noted, as she spoke softly, "They have. And it's thanks to you, y'know?"

_Great, I've traveled time and space to be a matchmaker._

When the doorbell rang, she went instantly on alert. "He's early! Let him in!" Racing down the stairs and straight to the bathroom, she yelled back at Jack, "He can't see me like this!"

"Why does it matter, you're with him all the time? And what exactly am I supposed to do with him?!" He shouted after her.


	4. Chapter 4

Another fun chapter. There's a tad more detail in it and more to come. Thanks to all that's reading. If you don't mind, let me know what you think!

* * *

Moments later, as he watched a puzzled Dub step into the apartment from the self-opening door, Jack thought it wise to assess the whelp who had eyes for the Kitten.

"Soph?"

"Five minutes, Herby!" she shouted from the bathroom.

Jack walked slowly around the man and enjoyed the other's discomfort. He'd use it to his advantage later but for now, he wouldn't spook him off. Jack wondered if it was a good sign or not that he was starting to make impressions on others besides Sophie but decided it was probably a fluke thing. The pirate had once heard his first mate, Mr. Gibbs, tell stories of ghosts and the influence they could have over others; one such story involving a woman's wedding dress that floated around the decks of a merchant vessel came to mind. Jack hadn't believed the story then and he was hardly going to believe he was a ghost now.

Stopping in front of the whelp, his evaluation was complete. Muscular was a good word to describe the man but he disguised it under nice fitting clothes. His hair was much too short to be any respectable kind of seaman but he had a nice scruff of a beard growing—_his "cap'n beard_" Jack thought, rolling his eyes. Brown hair and deep brown eyes, he seemed familiar to the sailor but Jack couldn't quite place the face. The man was tall, too, standing a good half a foot taller than Jack. However, even with that advantage, the seasoned pirate doubted that the whelp could handle himself with a sword. A pistol, on the other hand, was a different story; the Kitten had informed Jack that the whelp was a lawman in this time, which made him glad he couldn't be seen.

"I'm ready."

"Wow," Dub whispered as he caught his first sight of her.

"I told you not to go with the black dress!" Jack said, exasperated.

She blushed and looked down at her feet.

"You're cute when you do that."

"Cut bait, kitten! He's too much trouble for you."

"Stop it."

"You're right. That wasn't appropriate."

"Oh. No. Not you."

He moseyed over to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. It would have been a nice moment but Jack popped his head right up next to hers making her feel very self conscious. "Forget the whelp. You're too good for him."

Placing her hands on Dub's stomach, she pushed him away slightly and addressed the comment. "What do you suggest I do?" she asked and was surprised when Dub responded.

"I suggest that you forget about me before I make a complete fool of myself."

She wished she could wipe Jack's smug grin from his face. "See? He doesn't have an original thought in his mind and he agrees with me."

"He's just being sweet."

Dub scowled. "He? He who?"

"He you," she covered. "What's brought this on all'a'sudden? You're not usually one to drop compliments at my feet."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I've just been thinking a lot lately."

Jack popped his head between them giving her a face full of dreadlocks before he turned and shot her a radiant, gold-filled sneer. "Eunuchs tend to do a lot of thinking. He's not a eunuch is he?"

"No!"

Dub frowned. "No? I haven't?"

"No." She let out a slow breath. "Herby, I think I'm losing my mind. Is it bad to carry on conversations with a person no one else can see?"

Dub grew despondent and sat on the back edge of the sofa. "Oh. So how's Casper doing?"

"Casper?" She rested her hip against the other end of the couch. "Oh Jack. He's doing fine."

Herby looked quizzically at her. "Jack? You named him?"

Sophie watched Jack stroll across the room and take a spot between her and Dub. She noticed the pride he took in being in the way. "Well, that's his name," she disclosed, making a face at the topic of discussion.

Dub sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I like you devoting so much brain power to another guy."

"Jealous?" she joked

"Envious," he responded softly.

She was puzzled. "Of?"

"I st…when you told me that someone was in here the other night, it scared me to wits end. I started wondering what it would be like to not have you in my life."

"But it wasn't anything. Just smoke and mirrors."

"Still, I couldn't stop thinking about you being in danger. And not being the one to rescue you." He scoffed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "That didn't sound as hackneyed in my head as it does out loud."

"And you're sure _Cap'n _Mac ain't a eunuch?"

"It didn't sound hackneyed."

Dub straightened from his perch, stepped over in front of her and grinned puckishly, resting his hand on either side of her. "Yeah?"

"Maybe a little trite, but not--"

He clicked his tongue and screwed up his face. Playfully, he murmured, "Vamp." It was a horrible thing to call a friend but the two had a history that easily explained it all away. One didn't play a pirate and not pick up a bad trait or two.

Jack bristled not knowing that story. "Rescind that comment, whelp!"

Sophie couldn't hide her smile though her annoyance at her invisible friend stayed in check. "Rotter," she murmured meaning it as much for her friend as for the pirate.

"That's right, kitten!"

"I can see why you're really the captain. You get what you want."

Herby grinned. "What can I say? You bring it out of me, luv."

Goosebumps covered her arms and she instantly knew he wasn't joking and she didn't want him to be. "This is going to change things," she murmured.

"I know," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

"Hands off you scabrous dog! I challenge you right now!" Jack pulled out his pistol and aimed it wildly around. "It only has one shot but that's all I need!"

"You don't mind that I'm slightly touched in the head, do you?" she muttered against his coat.

"Just as long as your pirate doesn't stab or shoot me."

She pulled away roughly. "I never told you he was a pirate."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hope that some of you don't hate me after this chapter but it's one of my favorites. Anything that's recognizable is not mine--it belongs to Disney and the trickle effect downward none of which includes me.

* * *

----_k----_

Dub smiled. So he had guessed right that her imagination was bringing a pirate to life. "True, you didn't. But you did say he smelled like the sea-breeze and drank rum. I'm around that enough on the weekends to put two and two together. Which makes me wonder; you're not thinking about one of the guys I work with, are you?"

She bit her upper lip to hide her grin. For once she was glad that her pirate friend wouldn't be able to join her for an outing. They'd never discussed the fact that he couldn't leave the confines of her home but, like a lot of things, she'd learned not to think about it too much.

Later that night, Sophie fell asleep on his shoulder during the movie at her house and hadn't taken well to Dub's requesting they end the evening early. Every time he tried to move away, she'd wrapped her arms tighter around his which she was using as a pillow. The time with his thoughts with her soundly sleeping had been nice, though, thinking back over the evening. It had been great at dinner when she offered affectionate looks, the smiles just for him, the developing feelings from both of them were obvious but still, he had an uneasy feeling the entire night that they were being watched. Even sitting in her apartment, he sensed they weren't alone.

"Soph? I think I should go."

She mumbled softly, making him smile.

"Yes, whelp, you should. If you wanted to keep her honor, you should have thought of that hours ago!" Jack, seething, had sat in the chair next to the couch, his sword in hand all night, keeping a weathered eye on the two.

Dub sat up and tilted his head to the side as he muted the movie. "Hello?"

"Pretend all you want, scurvy dog! Just be glad you can't really hear me!" The pirate offered a few choice words but barely felt vindicated. He was proud to see that the Kitten was not like most women from his time or the whelp like a true pirate, but his sword sat ready in case the cad tried anything.

Shaking off the feeling of apprehension, Herby wrapped his arms under Sophie and pulled her to his chest before carrying her up to her room.

Outraged, Jack followed closely behind him yelling everything he could think of, grateful that the young Sophie was asleep to protect her tender ears. Sadly, it was to no effect. Dub skillfully pushed the first curtain away with his shoulder making Jack's anger grow but he could do nothing as he watched the second curtain move just as effortlessly. How was Jack supposed to protect the honor of the fair maiden if nothing was going to assist him?

Appalled, he watched as Dub gingerly placed Sophie on the bed, brushing hair from her face as he sat next to her. "Will I ever work up the courage to tell you I love you? I work so hard at what I do so I can make a better life for us and I can't even tell you how I feel. And I kid myself that you'd be happy, that you'd want me as I am. I should have told you every day from the moment I met you," he tucked another wayward strand behind her ear, "I love you."

Jack straightened. He suddenly was overcome with a very strong sensation of déjà vu. He watched as the man leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead before covering her with a quilt and softly saying goodbye.

This turn of events was more then Jack wanted to deal with. "Where's my rum?"

-----_k-----_

Sophie, sitting with a paintbrush clasped between her teeth, sighed. The dull ache at the base of her head told her she should have been in bed hours ago but, unfortunately, deadlines don't compete well with sleep—they play dirty.

Jack had been surprisingly quiet since her date with Dub two days ago and Dub had been on call after a terroristic threat came in; he said he was 'too stressed to bother her' so he was absent quite a bit too. Thus, being left to her own devices, she'd turned to work to keep herself out of proverbial trouble.

It surprised her how much she'd grown used to Jack's presence. Though she still regarded him with healthy skepticism—however really, how healthy could it be since she was the only one who could see him?—she realized how much she needed a sounding board and unconditional friend. Well, there was one condition: rum. She did have friends, both male and female, but there was a comfort with Jack that none of her other relationships had, except maybe with Dub. But Jack didn't like her as more than a friend; he was kind, genuinely seemed to care for her and he made her laugh which produced a yearning for siblings she never had. Not only siblings but family; it had been she and her parents all her life. Jack was filling a nice void she didn't know was there.

She chuckled quietly as she thought about how mad Jack had gotten at Dub for the name he'd called her. Vamp wasn't the most flattering of nicknames but it came after an incredibly late night at the pirate show in which she had to fill in for one of the girls who had the flu. Now that she thought about it, she could see signs from then of Herby's growing affection for her. When he'd said it, she didn't think it needed explaining and she rather enjoyed Jack's explosion of anger. She felt protected almost.

A cold shiver tickled her spine and she spun around on her stool expecting to see Jack, although the Pirate Captain hadn't caused that reaction since the first few days. When she didn't see the cocky pirate lingering in the long shadows she began to worry. After all, a shiver couldn't just be a shiver.

"Jack?" she called, climbing to her feet. She arched her aching back and grumbled at the pain. "Jack, I'm in no mood for hide and go seek. Unless you're hiding with chocolate," she quipped, stepping through the blue curtain. She looked down at the story below and found the captain asleep on the couch, his left leg dangling over the back, the never-emptying rum bottle in hand on his chest. "Jack," she asked quietly receiving an impressive series of snots and snores from her roommate.

_Bang._

Sophie's blood ran glacial as she saw a shadow dance past the kitchen door. "Please, I can't handle anymore ghosts," she whispered, tiptoeing down the steps, dodging the boards she knew would creak.

She called Jack's name again but the pirate's sleep seemed to be heavily influenced by things outside her control, _wretched rum!,_ and she continued on her own. Surely if she had to scream, he'd wake—wouldn't he?

Arriving at the kitchen's doorjamb, Sophie pressed herself flat against the wall and steeled her courage to take a peek. The kitchen was dark but her eyes quickly adjusted and she realized that, once again, she'd overreacted. Dancing in the breeze, the white kitchen curtains mocked her, laughing at her silly fears, almost proud-like that they had knocked her flower off the windowsill.

Still, the fact that the mysterious noise had been solved didn't calm her nerves; when the phone rang she shrieked like it was a B-rate horror flick. Shaking her head, she scolded herself, "Honestly Sophie. You're not twelve."

It was the third ring before she answered the phone—worry that something might be wrong the only reason why she answered.

"And why aren't you in bed?"

She smiled as the familiar voice washed over her, warming her fingers and toes. She never realized how much she liked Dub's voice. "I would be if people didn't call me in the middle of the night."

"We both know you were working. I can see your lights are on."

"Are you stocking me?" she asked playfully.

"No. But I asked Chief to include your area in my patrol."

"Afraid of boogiemen living next door to me?"

"Always." He waited a beat before continuing. "I've got a small favor to ask."

Climbing the steps back to her studio, she grinned. "Yes?"

"I've got to pull a few shows this weekend and was wondering if you'd come offer moral support."

Her smile growing, she let the silence grow between them, enjoying his slight stammering of insecurity from the other end. "Of course I'll be there," she finally said.

Thrilled, he asked her when he could pick her up but she told him a currier was coming Friday for her latest mock-ups and that she didn't want to make him wait for her.

"Don't be late, Soph. Soph? Are you going to dream about me?"

She laughed. "Good night, Mr. Turner." She closed her cell phone and dropped it on her paint table. Behind her, Jack cleared his throat and she turned her smile on his stone-chiseled gaze. "Sorry if I woke you. Herby's call surprised me."

Jack rested a hip against the studio table and crossed his arms over his chest. Narrowing his eyes, he studied hers and saw the fierce brown there that felt so familiar. After hearing Herby's last name and connecting it with what he was already thinking, Jack assessed the woman before him.

He'd easily grown to love her over the weeks they'd spent together but not the same affection he felt for a girl like Scarlett or Giselle. His love for Sophie was an intense, protective love like one he'd never felt before. He suddenly realized she was studying him back, a worried expression marring her sweet features. Finally he spoke. "Luv, I've never inquired why you call the whelp two names. Which is it?"

She scrunched her face in surprise to the question. "Neither. Both are nicknames for his real one."

"Which is?"

"Weatherby. Weatherby Turner. Dub's short for 'W'. He hates his given name. It's from some long-forgotten great-grandfather, I think."

Jack whistled low under his breath. "And I bet he's a son of a son of a son."

"I've never asked. Why?"

"And what's your name, kitten?"

"Jack, you know it's Sophie."

"Last name as well, darlin'."

"Sparrow. Sophie Sparrow."

_How had that never come up in the weeks he'd been with her?_ "And your lineage?"

"This I know. I'm the first girl in the Sparrow line."

"Kitten, I think we need to have a word with the folks."


	6. Chapter 6

a/n: sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. The story is actually finished but I've had to contend with my beta's work schedule and reading Harry Potter. I hope this chapter doesn't leave you too 'hunh'ed' but this is where it's been going since the beginning. Cheers! k

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6.

Taking a deep breath, Sophie opened the door of her apartment to her smiling parents and steeled herself to the onslaught of questions. It wasn't that she didn't talk to them almost every day but, for some reason, they stockpiled all the tough questions for face-to-face events such as this one.

Jack, standing lazily against the wall, was looking at a crazy compass hanging from his waist, acting as nonchalantly as he could though Sophie could sense he was yearning for her to ask the prearranged questions. Why he was nervous, she didn't know, for he seemed convinced they were related but she wasn't so sure.

The shock of what he had implied still weighed heavily on her mind. Yes, they had the same last name, but that wasn't an uncommon thing—ask anyone with the last name 'Jones' or 'Smith' or 'Johnson'. And, true, he was from over a century ago and the possibility was there, but it was absolute nonsense. Wasn't it?

Jack wasn't her ancestor, was he?

----_k----_

Watching the pirate pacing the floor, however slowly and dispassionately he acted, had almost driven her crazy during dinner. Her mother's incessant questioning of what was so important over her shoulder hadn't helped with her sanity either.

Finally, as the dessert plates were cleared and she stood at the sink with her dad, Sophie found the peace of mind needed to discuss her mental state with him. Jack plopped onto the counter beside her, his sword angled across the edge of the sink, eyes burning a hole into her to make sure she didn't coward out.

"Dad? There's no history of mental illness in our family, is there?"

"Not the question I would have started with, luv," Jack remarked.

"What's that, honey?"

Sophie shook her head and continued drying plates. "Dad, are there any sailors on your side of the family?"

Her father thought for a moment before responding. "Grampa was a navy man, of course. Always said he got the water bug from somewhere along the line but no sailors that I can think of."

"Oh." Disappointment was a good description of what she felt. She looked to Jack and saw what she was feeling in his eyes.

Cleaning his throat, her father added, "But Grampa always claimed a pirate or two."

Sophie thunked the cup she was cleaning against the counter. "Dad! I'd consider those sailors!"

He thought for a moment. "So they are. What's gotten you interested in this? All this pirate talk? Captain Herby finally opened his eyes to how beautiful you are?"

"Yeah, something like that," she mumbled, blushing. "A _couple_ pirates, hunh?"

He passed the last dish to her and furrowed his brow. "Grampa called one of them by name a couple times…John? James?"

"Jack?"

"That's it! Captain Jack. I think that ring on your nightstand, the one on the chain, belonged to him, too. At least, those are the stories that dad used to tell. He kind of got to weaving tales after awhile, y'know. In fact, he once told a story about rescuing himself from an island with nothing but a dolphin and a bunch of coconuts. Crazy old cuss."

Sophie had tuned her father out, her complete attention on the pirate sitting on the counter, rubbing his chin and looking back at her. A memory flashed through her mind and she realized why she'd been so excepting of Jack.

She was ten at the time and her dad had pulled out an old box of her grandfather's things. Among the items was a picture of her Grampa in his navy uniform, a spark in his eyes that wasn't there in other pictures of him.

Now she knew two men whose eyes lit like that; Jack's did the very same thing when he spoke of the Pearl.

-----_k-----_

"So that's why you're so protective of me," Sophie stated later after her parents had gone.

"Beg pardon?" The pirate kicked his worn boots up on her coffee table and tipped his hat down over his eyes.

"The way you treated Dub when we started dating. Your protection of me comes from you being my great-great-great-grea--"

"Yes, kitten, I get the idea—I'm great."

"Don't you find that fascinating?"

"Oh, terribly," he yawned.

"Jack! Come on! I mean, look at this ring; it looks just like yours."

Tipping his hat back, he looked at the object presented on her flat palm and shrugged. "Mine's nicer."

Narrowing her eyes, she growled deep in her throat. "Just _what_ is your problem?"

"Be nice to your elders, luv."

"I will be when you earn it," she roared, snapping her fingers closed around the ring. She wanted to stay mad, but there was more. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Enlighten me."

"You're not really dead yet."

"I figured as much."

"Which means we have to figure out how you got here and why. I hope I don't have to research ninth dimension wormholes or something."

"I s'pose."

"What was with the attitude over this?" She tilted her hand and let the ring slide into his, watching as he eyed it carefully. She shrugged and continued, "Isn't it nice to have a connection to a Sparrow heir?"

He sighed and placed it on the table. "Well maybe I'm just wondering how exactly I'm supposed to produce this family line ending with you when I'm not exactly the marrying kind."

She furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"

"I love the sea, kitten. Jack Sparrow is not one to settle down! I love freedom, sails, the horizon, the Pearl. How is a woman supposed to live up to that?"

Sophie laughed. "It will. Obviously. I mean, hopefully—for my sake. Since I'm here that means that you're just out of your time, not really a ghost because you have to create the line. Wait, we went over that. Look, it'll just happen. When you meet her, you'll know."

"Doubt it. Some wench probably just claimed my name for her tot, s'all."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He could feel the intense anger radiating from her body directed at him and realized he probably said the wrong thing. More possibly a lot of wrong things.

She studied the key she held in her other hand. Seething, but still wanting to know about it, she spat, "And this? Was this yours too?"

Jack's attention was undivided as he took the key in his hand and ran his thumb over it. "Now where did you get that?"

His sudden interest caused her anger to fade. "It's been in the family for generations. Was it yours?"

Having run his thumb over one shank and its teeth, he moved to the next shank. It had to be the only one like it in the world—a two headed key, one side shorter than the other and both joined to a perfect circle.

"Jack?"

"Belongs to a friend of mine."

"You mean belonged. Don't you?"

"Barring some unforeseen mutiny—doubtful—he's still very much alive, or sort of alive-like, as it is, if you will. And somehow, along the lines of progeny, it got away from his offspring and into the hands of mine. Which would mean something happened to one of his, meaning mine had to intervene and that the lines were connected for at least a few generations. Savvy?"

She exhaled deeply. "Sure." Rubbing her temple to ward off a headache, she yanked the key from his hand and slammed it and the ring on the table. "But I'm still hugely upset with you, you _git_!"

Watching speechless as she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs, Jack realized that, for the first time in his life, his clever wits and wicked charm weren't going to get him out of something. He was actually going to have to apologize. Begrudgingly, he slipped his sword and pistol from his belt, placing them securely on the table and headed for the stairs. He thought it best not to give her any extra weapons to use against him and to look like he was coming in peace.

The doorbell rang, disturbing the speech practice in his head. "Sophie, are you going to get that? It must be the currier." This would be good; if she had to come downstairs, it would look less like he was groveling. When she didn't even move upstairs, Jack knew he wasn't going to be so lucky.

Plucking the drawings from the coffee table, he opened the door and shoved them in the very surprised face of a young man who would never find the courage to tell anyone that drawings had magically handed themselves to him. Or that a door mysteriously slammed in his face.

Jack, with far greater things on his mind, started up the stairs slightly concerned that Sophie wasn't even stomping around. One thing he'd discovered was that she had an amazingly fierce temper but thankfully tended to be just at quick at forgiveness. Hopefully.

Stepping through the blue curtain, he was surprised to not see her working there and then he remembered her promised plans to go watch Herby in his "captain" duties. Jack assumed she was getting ready for that.

He stopped at the green curtain and clucked his tongue a few times as if knocking. "Sophie? May we speak for a moment? I…Look, I—I'm sorry, alright. Are you happy now? What's a fight between family, right? Blood's thicker than rum, Soph….Sophie? At least you can talk to me!...Sophie!"

Flinging the curtain to the side, blood instantly drained from his face and his knees grew weak at the sight before his eyes.

Sophie laid, her lips turning blue, on the bed. The man hovering over her tightened his grip around her neck as his gaze and gun hand shot wildly to the curtain when it moved, anger and bewilderment darkening his eyes.

"Oh bugger."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

"What's wrong with this crazy place of yours?! No walls anywhere, stuff flying on its own, doors opening and closing!" Growling in frustration, he turned the gun back on Sophie. "Where is it?!"

Her tongue growing thick, spots appearing before her eyes and her hands going numb from the pressure of his knees on her arms, Sophie thought she must have imagined the question. _Where was what?_

"For weeks I've been trying to get in here to search for it but I swear this place must be booby trapped; ever time something went wrong. I think I've been patient long enough. And I deserve a little payback, I do believe!"

Flailing his arms, Jack frantically tried to process what to do. He knew he'd have no effect on the man—he'd experimented with Dub's head enough times—he couldn't pull the maniac away from Sophie, and he didn't want to go for the gun because it might accidentally go off; there was no way to know how sensitive guns were in this time.

"Sophie, luv, fight back!" He yelled, recklessly throwing his arms around to knock over anything that would move. He had great success with the curtain walls that made up half the room. He ran up and down the side that opened to the floor below then moved to the sheet hiding the studio.

"Cut that out!!" The gunman threw the bedside lamp with surprisingly good aim considering his target was invisible. Jack thumped to the floor in a daze, a healthy gash opened above his right eye. Wiping away the blood, Jack was relieved to see the gunman had lost his focus for the briefest of moments.

The wild thrashings had broken nearly all her things but it had been a good distraction. Wiggling under his body, using her legs and anything else to inflict pain, Sophie escaped and ran into the studio and grabbed her phone, depressing one of the keys until speed dial took control. Unfortunately, the malicious man was taking pleasure in her efforts as he rushed over, throwing a strip on material around her throat and twisting it tight, knocking the phone from her grasp after that.

He pressed the pistol forcefully against her temple. "If someone else is here, just try something else! The bullet won't miss, I promise."

The young Sparrow's eyes grew large; she couldn't remove them from Jack's worried face. It was the first time she'd ever seen fear lace his countenance.

A bitter, coppery taste coated the back of her tongue as the white spots returned to her vision. The malefactor had caught her off guard this time; she hardly had any breath in her when the rag tightened making her arms feel heavy and her mind slow.

Jack felt helpless as he stared at the gun to her temple but hope surged as something caught his attention on the floor. Sophie's phone had connected. Scampering to it on his hands and knees, he read Herby's name across the screen and allowed a little relief to come over him. He placed his ear against it on the floor, afraid to pick it up lest the scurvy rat see, never taking his eyes from Sophie.

Dub's voice seemed lazy as he answered. "You're not trying to get out of this, are you?"

Jack depressed a few of the buttons but stopped when the gunman shot his head around anxiously. _Now what, _the pirate wondered. He listened to Dub as the man started to sound more like Jack was feeling.

Summoning all his energy and concentrating more than he ever had, he yelled, "Sophie's hurt!"

Unexpectedly, Sophie started to shiver and the gunman's breath came out in a wispy, foggy breath. The room had dropped considerably in temperature at Jack's outburst.

"I've got to get out of this place! Where is it?!" He loosened the material around her neck allowing her to cough violently. Giving her only a moment he shouted, "Tell me!"

"Wh-what?"

Jack winced at her broken voice. It sounded like she'd swallowed glass shards.

"I know you have it! It was there, on your bedside table, the first night I came in but that stool had to fall over so I couldn't get it."

"Th-that was you?"

"I thought you'd heard me so I watched you the next day when you talked to the cop. He didn't believe you, did he?' The mocking tone in his voice was filled with hate. "My good luck. Then that flower pot fell off the shelf when I tried to break in again. Well, I'm done sneaking around! Give me the necklace!"

"Wh' are you talkin' 'bout?"

"Look, lady, I know your nuts and all, always talking to yourself, but surely you're not that far gone. The necklace on your table, where is it?"

Sophie's mind was reeling, her vision swimming. _What could he mean?_ "Th-the ring?"

He twisted the material tighter, letting it dig into her throat though still allowing her to talk. "Did I say ring? Where is the key, lady?"

Jack's mind shot to the coffee table where the object in question lay. There was only one reason someone would want that key. "Sophie, keep him talking! Figure out why he wants it. Try and keep him distracted!"

"The key," she rasped, the wheels in her mind slowly turning. "It's just a piece of junk. It was my grandfather's."

"It should never have gotten in his hands. Your family took it from its owners! If your ancestors hadn't, it wouldn't have taken mine so long to find it!"

"It's owners? Who?"

"The two families stayed close for a while, yes. I know; my family kept detailed journals of all the goings on since the very beginning. My ancestors tried to get it but yours stole it first. Now it's time to vindicate my bloodline!" he screamed and his body reacted in kind.

Being thrown roughly across the room was one type of pain she'd never be able to describe; her back meeting the bureau's edge was another. She rubbed gingerly at her throat and tried to gather her thoughts. Her vision swam again. Somewhere, in the back of her mind maybe, a pirate was calling her. _A pirate? Yo ho, yo ho…No, that's not right. No, no, no, no!! Sophie, wake up! _Pawing at her eyes, she mumbled, "Families? Who are you talking about?"

He hooted with surprising intensity as if telling jokes with his friends and then his eyes turned cold and calculating. "The Sparrows and Turners, of course. All it took was betrayal from your family—of course that was to be expected—and it severed the relationship. Until now."

"Turner? Dub? W-why does my relationship with him have anything to do with uh-a key?"

"Because, if you give him the key, I'll have no chance to get it. It'll be protected, then. And we can't have that, can we?"

Below, the door crashed open startling the gunman and allowing Sophie to scamper feebly behind the green sheet, struggling over and behind the bed. Following her, the lunatic concealed himself behind the makeshift wall before Herby ran up the stairs. The weapon, shaking in the man's hand, was pointed well enough at Sophie that, if she made one noise, he'd shoot.

Jack watched as Dub appeared from the steps in full pirate garb. The overall effect was there, Jack had to admit, and if they were in a different century he'd probably enlist him to his crew on the Pearl. Herby slowed his steps, his authentic pirate boots thudding quietly against the wood floor, ending all ties to pirate relations—a true pirate couldn't move so deftly or so soberly.

Jack would almost find it amusing if he wasn't worried to wit's end.

Thinking of which, he called out to his great-granddaughter and told her not to worry. The puzzled expression on Dub's face made Jack try his luck. "Dub? Can you hear me? Don't speak!" he reprimanded as the young man opened his mouth. Instead of words, Jack watched as a foggy puff of breath exited Turner's mouth. _Was it Jack doing it? Maybe his concentration of efforts was pulling other energy from around him. Focus Jack!! _"You _can_ hear me. Listen, there's a bloke with a gun just behind these curtains, savvy? Sophie's in there too."

Dub stepped closer, nodding his head. He was inches away from the curtain wall but he, like Jack, didn't dare pass through it for fear of the gunman's reaction.

Then, Jack had an idea. "Stand there; I'm going to create a distraction." Sliding to the brick wall where a cluster of paintings were stacked vertically, he hooked his finger behind the back one and pulled them forward, letting them crash to the floor.

Instantly the material parted and a bullet flew through the air from the end of the weapon, shattering a pane of glass. Herby reacted instantly and pulled the man through the curtains, away from Sophie. Using the distraction, Jack passed through the fabric to the bedroom and knelt beside his great-granddaughter. Touching her cheek tentatively, he watched as her eyes rolled to focus on his. Hazy recollection warmed her face. He helped her lie behind the bed and ordered her to stay there until he came for her.

Peeking back into the studio, Jack didn't like what he saw. True the pirate-clad policeman was trained for this sort of thing but every crazy man was different; Jack knew that first hand. Plus, Herby was outgunned and could only stand helpless, his hands held out at his sides as the enemy taunted him with the weapon. Reacting without a second's thought, Jack hurled himself at the intruder through half the green sheet wall, looking every bit the ghost that he was purported to be.

The distraction was enough to draw repeated fire from the gun, lodging slugs in random spots in the wall. Tackling the prowler, the weapon sliding across the floor and over the wall-less edge to first floor, Jack worked off pure adrenaline as he tied to subdue the other man. Wildly, the man clawed at the sheet, desperately trying to unearth his attacker, and when the sheet was finally removed, Jack lost all influence over the man meaning, as hard as he wailed on the man, no punches landed. The intruder gathered his wits enough to dash into the bedroom, knocking over the bureau and anything else he could on his way to create a barrier between the two rooms.

Dub, unsure of what just happened, struggled after the man, clambering over the overturned furniture trying to see past the remaining hanging half of green cloth. Forcefully pushing it away, he froze, watching horror-s-s-truck as the scene before him played out in slow motion.

The man had Sophie by the hair. She struggled madly, punching and kicking any body part she could until the crazy man took one too many steps backward and walked off the edge of the floor to plummet to the level below taking her with him.

Running down the stairs, Dub frenetically searched for the lunatic but found him too late. The pistol was aimed at him, cocked, quivering in the other man's hand.

A shot rang out.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: sorry again for the delay. School and work are killing me. Thanks for sticking with this. And thank you so much for the reviews!!! They make my horrible days end on a high note. One more chapter after this.

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"Where am I?"

"This is like no other place in the world," he responded, smiling broadly. "It's freedom and you've experienced it before."

"I have? Tell me."

Furrowing his brow in thought, Jack leaned against the captain's wheel, his arms draped lazily against the spokes. The sun was setting, casting the ship with a warm cantaloupe coloring and lighting all the deep corners of the soul. It felt good to be here—right. "I'm afraid I can't do that, luv. It's something that you have to feel for yourself. I can't put it into words for you."

The visitor frowned before inspiration squashed away the doubt. "Oh! I have felt it! But I wouldn't exactly all it freedom."

"What would you call it?"

She sighed, grasping the railing and leaning back, letting the sea wind play with her hair. "Love. It makes you feel like there's no fears of what tomorrow may bring. Like you can go wherever you want to go."

Jack chuckled, "Now you're not making any sense a'tall, luv."

She squinted back at him with one eye and pouted. "I don't think I want to be here anymore."

"I don't think you need to be here anymore, kitten. You've finally figured it out."

"And what's that?"

Walking over to her, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace and muttered, "Why I came, of course. To help you figure out what your Black Pearl is, so to speak. Savvy?"

"It wasn't to save my life?"

He thought a moment then grinned. "Look around you, luv. You're on the Pearl."

"Does that mean I'm dead?"

His grin turned into a frown. "I don't believe so, kitten. I think I just needed to get you here. But, I think it's time to move on."

Deep crimson quickly began to diffuse over the smooth surface, trickling down to leave no surface untouched. It was a scarlet unlike any paint on Sophie's palette and seemed to make all other colors pale in comparison. Jack watched it carefully as it blossomed and grew and overtook its surroundings like the warm light of a Caribbean sunset. Only, it wasn't light; it was blood. The white shirt quickly was saturated with the sticky liquid as it bloomed from the hole in the man's chest.

_Jack, wake up! Get off the Pearl. Look at what's happening._

Slowly, the man sank to his knees and Jack lowered his pistol. It only had one shot but that was all he needed. Across the room, Dub stepped hard off the last step, almost appearing to use the sensation to wake himself up from a dream. He looked at Jack and knew that everything Sophie had been claiming was true. It was one thing to hear the other man. It was far another to see him. Dub watched as the pirate—_pirate!_ he thought, taking in the other man's appearance again—set the old-fashioned pistol on the table as he quickly stepped around it.

Swiftly, Herby walked over to the gunman and, as he thought, found him dead; the color was draining from his face as Dub closed the soulless eyes.

"Herby! Sophie's not breathing! She's not breathing!"

Sliding next to the pair on his knees, his heart broke upon seeing Sophie's lifeless face. _Please, just have had the wind knocked out of you from the fall, _Dub thought, rubbing his hand frantically over his pant legs.

Leaning over her body, he placed his left hand to her throat, his right cradling her neck. Slowly searching her face, he said softly, "This better not be the last time I do this, luv," and carefully, tilting her head back and making sure not to move it too much for fear her neck may be broken, he covered her blue lips with his. Reassuringly, he felt her chest rise beside him, and then fall when he broke contact. Taking another breath, he gave it to her again, knowing he'd do it forever if it would just bring her back. At his fingertips, he could feel her heart beating but it was like the rest of her was afraid to move. Another breath, this one with as much love he could give her.

Aggressively, the impulse to breathe took over and Dub lightly held her shoulders to keep her from moving too much. Once she finally gained control of her senses, she settled down enough that he finally straightened his elbows and looked down at her from arm's length.

There were so many things he wanted to ask her, to tell her but it was all forgotten. "For a second there, I thought I might never get the chance to tell you I love you."

Taking a shuddery breath, she offered a weak grin and closed her eyes in peace. Images of the Pearl, grandly sailing across the ocean to the horizon filled her mind and she knew in her heart that she already knew how he felt about her. She spoke softly; her throat feeling like she'd swallowed a bag of nails. "Did you just kiss me?"

He smirked. "I was trying to save your life. I don't think it technically counts as a kiss."

"Then please, let's get rid of the technicality."

"I think your brain's been deprived of enough oxygen for the day. It's best to get you to the hospital."

Wrinkling her noise she breathed, "Spoilsport."

"I try. Jack? Keep an eye on our girl?" He stood and went to the kitchen to call for assistance.

Jack quickly knelt in Dub's place and smiled down at his great-granddaughter.

Lifting her hands slowly to her neck, wanting to feel the welts, she was surprised when calloused ones closed over hers and placed them back on her stomach. Locking eyes with her ancestor, she whispered, "I love your ship. Was that a dream?"

"Can an out-of-body experience have an out-of-body experience?...Whatever it was, I'm glad you liked her."

"I think all this time I believed you weren't real. That you were some figment, brought on by stress."

Reflecting, he sat and propped his forearms on his knees. "And now?"

"You saved my life, Jack."

"I played a small role, aye, but don't go around telling people that. It'll ruin my reputation, savvy?"

She said, "I dreamt about the Pearl again. She's a beautiful ship, Jack."

"Aye. But she's just a ship, kitten. There are far greater pearls in life."

Her eyes crinkled and sparkled with tears that finally came but would not leave. Her heart was full, more joy than pain-filled and she let the subtle peace from those she loved wash over her.

---k---

All the windows in the loft apartment stood open like great big yawning gargoyles to protect the occupants from the night. Dub had failed to see this logic of Sophie's and thought about that fact for the umpteenth time as he wrapped another afghan around her feet before sinking back into the couch and helping her nestle again under his arm.

Behind them, leather soled shoes clambered down the stairs from the studio and crossed the room, their owner coming into sight. He was in his full pirate outfit minus his hat, which was tucked under his arm. He beamed at his great-granddaughter, revealing all the gold in his sparkling grin.

Jack gingerly pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up a bit to examine her neck and clicked his tongue. "You're a true pirate now, luv." He pulled his collar away from his neck to reveal a similar mark around his throat. "Hangman's noose."

She chuckled and offered a croaky cough.

"What do you think, Mr. Turner? Do you think she's pirate material?"

Her voice was raspy and weak as she supplied, "I've got the blood of Jack Sparrow running through my veins, don't I? 'Sides, who says it's up to you two to decide?"

"She's got a point there, mate. I must admit I never thought it would happen like this."

"What's that, Jack?"

"That our ties would have to be tested this way…with you getting hurt an' all."

She waved off the comment and then smiled wickedly. "I think it was the only way to get us to realize it was real."

"Quite right, luv." Changing his attention to Dub, he stuck out his hand. "Keep her safe, young Wheatherby."

Herby nodded, taking the proffered hand. "This is feeling like a goodbye."

"Probably because it is, mate. I've gotta get out of here. No offence but…pirate." Looking at his hand, he slipped off the green stoned ring and slipped it into the younger Sparrow's hand who likewise removed her ring from the chain around her neck, giving it to him. It was a simple gesture but one that ensured that neither would forget the other.

Sophie reached out and he bent to meet her embrace. "I'll definitely miss you, Jack. Thank you, for everything."

"Of course, kitten. Now, don't do anything I wouldn't do…strike that. Just stay out of trouble."

"You too. I'm still expecting to be born, after all."

He grimaced as he headed back for the stairs. "I guess stranger things have happened."

"Hey, Jack?" She turned as he stopped on the fifth step. "Dad said that Grampa claimed a couple pirates in our line, remember?"

He thought for a moment and then realization lit his face. "Quite right, luv."

Settling back against Dub, she thought about Jack. She slipped her thumb through the ring and admired the detail. She hadn't even known about the man and yet he'd saved her life.


	9. Chapter 9

Last chapter. Thanks for all you that stuck with it. It's comforting to know you're reading but a comment or two is always appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it! k

* * *

The bed groaned as the lone occupant rolled over to find a more comfortable spot. A heaved sigh relayed that comfort would not be found tonight. The haunting images still hung heavy in the air; the intangible imagination clung to the figure, still perfectly formed in all its glory.

"Are you awake?"

Brown hair curtained the groggy Sparrow's face, muffling the grumbles and groans and protests.

"It isn't like you to sleep this late. Are you ill?"

"Ill?"

"Y'know, sick?"

"No. I'm not. I don't think. I had the strangest dreams however. It seemed to last for weeks."

The visitor walked over to the bed and shuffled nervously on his feet. "It did."

"Pardon me?"

"Well, you've been in a walking daze for, well, days. We left you alone but we were growing rather concerned." The first mate's concern was rather nice.

"Truly?"

"Yes. And you kept saying the same name over and over."

"Which?"

"Sophie."

Jack looked at his first mate and chuckled. "Sophie, aye?"

"Aye. Who is she Cap'n?"

"A dream, so it seems." But he was looking at his ring. Dulled with age and worn almost smooth, he knew that she was no more a dream than he was.

_----k----_

Jack was thinking about his supposed progeny the next day as the Black Pearl pulled into a cove at the back of Port Royal. He had often heard of men, overcome with fever, who thought they saw angels and visions that weren't truly there. He'd also heard stories of ghosts and witches and all sorts of paranormal activity that could explain away what had happened the past few days but he didn't know if that's what he wanted.

Something had happened. For some reason he and she had been connected through time. And the best thing he could determine was that he was sent to protect her, save her, ensure her happy future. At least, he hoped so. If she were merely an apparition, why had he gone to her instead of her to him? And if she were merely an apparition, he truly needed to swear off rum.

And that simply wasn't going to happen. Especially when good people kept offering it to him.

"Jack." Elizabeth held a bottle out to her friend some time later, after the sun had set and the pirate felt it safe to travel into Port Royal. He had taken a liking to the sporadic visits he paid to the Turner's home, catching up on times with Elizabeth, remembering past adventures and watching the little tyke grow up. He was three now and already Jack could see so much of his father in him.

"Thank you, luv." He took the bottle from her but held it down at his side, not feeling he had the stomach for the amber liquor at that time. Instead, he watched Elizabeth. The love that she shared with Will was evident in everything she did and Jack couldn't help feeling the tiniest tinge of something at the bottom of his stomach.

"Are you ill, Jack?"

He chuckled, watching as he ran his thumb over the mouth of the bottle. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that."

"Well you act like you've lost your beloved Pearl again."

"You know there are more important things in life than a ship," he snipped, surprised himself that he had said it.

Elizabeth merely looked at him, a thoughtful, knowing expression radiating in her eyes and mouth. Pushing his reaction to the back of her mind to ponder later, she turned her attention to her maid as the young girl came to announce the arrival of a visitor.

"Jack, I hope you'll put your best self forward in front of my friend."

"Luv, Captain Jack Sparrow only has one self, savvy? And it is the best."

Amused, she slowly shook her head at his complete turnaround in behavior and stepped out the door to welcome her guest.

His gaze returned to the mouth of the bottle, his thumb slowly following the edge as he thought about Sophie and her existence. Something catching his eye, he pulled his hand closer and examined the green stoned ring. All the detail was worn away as if by time and wear. Surely it was just a dream, wasn't it?

Jack straightened as Elizabeth walked in with her friend and started. The brown haired beauty was laughing louder than was ladylike and her eyes were twinkling with tears. Suddenly, she locked her gaze with his and smiled brightly.

And his heart stopped.

"Sophie?"

She crinkled her forehead and said softly, "Actually, the name's Sadie." She spoke with the gentle lulls of an Irish accent which explained away her brilliant green eyes.

"My manners. Sadie Kavanagh, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack stepped forward and took her hand, not bothering to let it drop after a respectable time or keeping the smirk hidden from his face.

"Have we met, sir?"

"No. But I've met one of your offspring."

"Jack!" Elizabeth scolded.

Sadie blushed. "Sir, I've no children and I'm not married."

He stepped closer and ran his eyes over her face enjoying the color that was flushing her cheeks. "Not yet."

"Jack!" Elizabeth admonished again, appalled but not completely surprised he would act in such a way. Then, total shock set in when her friend responded.

Sadie, taking a step forward, well beyond what a proper lady would step, pulled her shoulders back and challenged, "Is that a promise, Mr. Sparrow?"

"_Captain_, luv. Captain Sparrow."

"Captain, is it? Well, this I'll have to see first hand."

Yes, she did favor the young Sophie and it appeared she had the same fiery spirit but Jack was quickly realizing that the fair lass before him was amazingly unlike Sophie. And for that, he was pleased to realize he was grateful.


End file.
